


Damn the Gods

by mothra_dreams



Category: Goblin Slayer (Anime), Goblin Slayer (Manga)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Death, F/M, Gods of a sort, roll the dice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothra_dreams/pseuds/mothra_dreams
Summary: It was inevitable that he would one day die. Such was the fate of all who lived steeped in toil and bloodshed. What he hadn't considered was the Priestess; on her commitment to drag him back from the clutches of the Gods no matter what the cost.
Relationships: Goblin Slayer/Priestess (Goblin Slayer)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	Damn the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a writing exercise and ended up being an actual story. I hope you all enjoy something a little less fluffy and more grounded in the GS aesthetic.

It had happened deep in the ruins of the elderfolk. The same kind of set up that he had seen a dozen times before. Goblins claiming the overgrown stones as their own. Building what passed for society among them, until they would inevitably spill over, savaging the surrounding towns.

_It was not to pass._

The delve through the dungeon had gone well. By now the party had learned to work in perfect synchronization. They flowed and moved around each other, each part of something greater than themselves. A machine perhaps, made for a singular purpose. All of them together to slay goblins.

_No mercy for the merciless._

The hobgoblin in the nest was a surprise, but not one which was unbeatable. Again, the party met the challenge. Spells and rituals; swords and arrows and in the middle of it all, the Slayer himself. A whirlwind of violence, each part trusting the others to hold when its turn came. When it was time for the Slayer to play his part; to finish the monster with a sword between the eyes, the dice rolled once more.

 _They clattered as they spun_.

In its dying rage, the hobgoblin lashed out, catching the Slayer in the chest even as it crumpled, its last vestiges of sorry life fading from the Slayer’s well-placed blow. The Slayer sailed through the air, bracing for the inevitable brutal impact. Maybe it was a cruel joke on the part of Fate that he could not see the wicked spear jutting out from a crude goblin trap; easily avoided on first pass by the seasoned adventurers.

_Blessings fade, no matter their strength._

The spearpoint punched through his armoured back, impaling him with a sickening squelch. White-hot fire shot through his chest as blood splattered the stone around him. He tried to grab at it; to free himself but found his grasp feeble as liquid rose in his throat. A cough, and another bloody pattern sprayed on the ground. The blurring around the corners of his eyes and a slow sink into an inexorable darkness. A white flash, and a split-second vision of the Priestess leaning over him, tears pouring down her grimy cheeks as she shouted something. Her staff blindingly bright and then—

 _The dice had landed_.

\---/---/---

It wasn’t that the Slayer had _awoken_. More, a feeling of awareness of himself had gathered until eventually he found himself to have a body. Of sorts. He was lying down. At least that much was clear. He tested moving. First his fingers, curling and uncurling them until he was sure there was no damage. When they obeyed his commands, he tried his arms. They seemed near weightless, and the Slayer realised that armour was no longer encasing him.

_Was he supposed to be wearing armour?_

Next, his legs. As he moved them together, the memory of how to use his limbs in tandem gathered in his consciousness. A heave, a shift in weight and as if he’d lived an eternity in this body, he found himself standing. With his form mostly corporealised, he began the slow process of looking outwards to the world around him.

A white plane stretched out before him; no hint of a horizon to be seen. The Slayer shifted, moving in a tight circle. Nothing to be seen anywhere else around him either. He returned to his original position, and without a second’s hesitation began to walk.

He had no idea how long he had spent walking. Here there was nothing with which to mark the passage of time. Even his footsteps were silent, treading across the infinite plane. Perhaps he had been here forever; one foot in front of the other. And yet, between the rise of a step and the fall of its partner, the Slayer suddently felt a shift in the æther around him. The tiniest echo of a familiar voice. He paused, straining to locate the direction of the sound. Once more the fragmented pieces of words washed over him—

_There._

Far in the distance the Slayer saw it. The faintest outline of _something_. The Slayer began to run. With each bound it became clearer what he raced towards: a hall of sorts, with gleaming pillars rising to a marble roof. The voice around him grew stronger too; he began to make out words, though they were but snippets of something longer.

_“… don’t deserve… …not fair…”_

Then, in that same gap between strides he was there. His steps now echoing on the marbled floor of what was undoubtedly a temple hallway. A broad staircase spurred him onwards; he took the stairs two at a time, seeing the space open up before him until, with the final ascent, he found himself on a broad dais. Octagonal in shape, it was hewn from the same perfect marble as the pillars of the temple. On each side of the octagon loomed _presences_ , of some sort. When the Slayer attempted to focus on the one nearest to him, the very boundaries marking physical space seemingly warped and twisted.

In the centre of the dais however, there was no such trickery. There stood a figure dressed in flowing blue-and-white robes, with a cleric’s cap from under which spilled a wave of blonde hair. She stood tall and proud; a beacon of defiance even while dwarfed by the sheer size of the temple around her. At her feet lay a body encased in an unmistakable suit of armour.

All of a sudden, it came flooding back. The Priestess. Their travels. The fight.

 _His death_.

As he reeled from the recollection, the Priestess spoke.

“He never deserved any of this! You threw him away, expecting him to die at the hands of goblins when he was only a child.”

The Slayer tried to respond, but his words were snatched away before they could be formed. Whatever held his tongue must too have hidden his presence, as the Priestess continued her accusations.

“And now you try to keep him here. Why? Because he wouldn’t follow along with your stupid games?” the Priestess railed.

 _“His soul is ours now. This is the fate of all who would do as he has done_. _He is no different to any other_.”

The words seemed to manifest in the space behind the Slayer’s eyes, echoing around his skull.

“You’re wrong! Goblin Slayer is important! He brings so many people together, and he really believes that he has to do what he does,” the Priestess said.

 _“Once a soul passes through it must remain here_ ,” the voice replied.

“Then take part of mine! In the name of the Earth-Mother, provide me with a soul-bond so that I can bring Goblin Slayer back,” the Priestess stared up at presence opposite her, immovable even as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Desperately the Slayer tried to reach out— to grab the Priestess and shield her from the weight of her choice. Once more, he found his hands simply passing through the form of the girl before him.

For the first time there was discord in the murmurs behind the Slayer’s eyes. A hushed conference in language the Slayer could never hope to understand. Then, a unified front once more.

_“A soul-bond should not be taken on lightly. Your lives will become inexorably linked. Should he perish, so too will you; as it would be should you perish before he.”_

“I accept the price,” the Priestess said.

With her words, the Slayer felt himself pulled towards the body before the Priestess. In turn, the Priestess slumped to her knees. Rising from her prone form came the same ethereal outline as his own, catching her bright smile as she saw him.

“I—”

His words were cut off by the Priestess taking his hand. Lightning ran across his skin as together they were drawn into their bodies, melding with the physical forms as the space around them grew blindingly bright. The Slayer felt a pressure on him rising and rising until he could no longer stand the force and;—

\---/---/---

The Slayer awoke with a start. This time the temple around him was a familiar sight; the hymns of the Earth-Mother bringing soft comfort to the worn stone upon which he rested. That he could feel the stone meant he had been stripped of his armour. The faintest flicker of worry passed through him.

_Stolen?_

He turned to rise, feeling the ache in his body as its stiffness betrayed how long he had been prone. Yet he froze midway as once more he found himself facing the kneeling Priestess. Her eyes were closed in concentration and her breathing heavy but she was so _real_ before him. He reached out a tentative hand and as he did her eyes shot open. Her momentary surprise was quickly replaced with the widest smile he had ever seen on her soft face.

“Goblin Slayer!”

She wrapped him in a tight hug, squeezing him with a strength he was unprepared for. Slowly, awkwardly he returned the gesture. He could feel the links of chain shirt she still wore through the Earth-Mother’s robes. They sat together, each supporting the other as the pieces of the Slayer’s memory slotted into place. As they did, the weight of her sacrifice washed over him once more.

“You brought me back,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied, breaking off their embrace and returning to her seated position.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because it wasn’t fair for you to die like that. We need you here.” The Priestess looked away before continuing, her voice soft. “And I would miss you. I know it’s selfish…”

The Slayer stared at her. Sacrifice wasn’t something to be expected in others.

“You know I can’t stop fighting,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want you to! I want to fight too. We all do.” the Priestess replied.

“And what the voice said— was it true? If I die, so will you?” The question came out less steady than he had expected.

“Yes. I know it’s a big responsibility and I’m sorry I couldn’t ask you whether it was ok but it was the only thing I could think of to bring you back,” the Priestess said, fiddling with her holy staff.

“I see,” he replied.

It was as if the very foundations of his world had shifted. Now they would be two. No more could he recklessly throw his life away.

And yet, he knew how strong the Priestess was. How she would fight beside him.

That no matter what; _there were goblins to be slain_.

“Priestess?” the Slayer broke the silence.

“Yes…” a question hung in the air around her reply.

“Thank you for bringing me back. Second chances are rare. I won’t waste this one,” he said, steel at the edge of his words.

The Priestess met his gaze and in her deep blue eyes the Slayer saw the same determination.

“We do it together,” she said, nodding as if to emphasise her point.

“Yes. Together.”


End file.
